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Under The Mask STEW JOHNSON INTERVIEW
I left Chris Doyle’s house with a blunt warning, “Don’t stay at Stew’s place – it’s bad.” I think of Doyle’s words as I scan for house numbers freewheeling down a street on the less desirable East Side of Austin, Texas, looking for the supposed hellhole of legendary BMX filmer Stew Johnson. Chris had made it clear what to expect, “Dude, when I had a shower there I stood in the very corner of the basin, trying to avoid the grime and the possibility of severe athlete’s foot. I had to strategically position my shoes outside of the shower so that my feet wouldn’t have to touch the piss-stained, pube’d to the max floor.” I recall those words of Doyle’s disgust in anticipation, still looking for number 3706 in a broad and empty street of distinctively American wooden bungalows spread out in neat lines under the heat of the mid afternoon Texas sun. My gaze is soon torn from looking for house numbers and drawn to more familiar labels, my eyes now yanked from their past focus to the welcome sight of wonky Empire, Odyssey and 2X4 stickers in the back window of a large white Ford van. I presumptuously turn into the drive of a respectable looking bungalow to see a giant taco beside a two-foot tall wooden toy bus with ‘FBM’ sprayed on the side and a basketball hoop made from a 48 spoke rim. I hear the slow opening and quick slam of a light fly-door. I look up to see the familiar and friendly sight of a bearded face, mesh cap, T-shirt and New Balance running trainers appear from the shadows of the back porch strolling towards me.
Words and photography by GEORGE MARSHALL